


Like Father, Like Son

by INeverHadMyInternetPhase



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Single Parent AU, Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeverHadMyInternetPhase/pseuds/INeverHadMyInternetPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is a good teacher, he is. He just can’t control Samuel Howell. And turns out he can’t control Samuel Howell’s single dad, either. (Or, the one where Dan's a single dad and a bad influence, and Phil's the teacher who has to deal with the consequences)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father, Like Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auroraphilealis (xrosepetalsx)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xrosepetalsx/gifts).



> This was written for the lovely insanityplays for her birthday! I hope you like this and have the lovely day that you deserve. Love you <3
> 
> Reminder that I don’t know Dan or Phil at all and I’m not suggesting this in any way reflects reality. This is a work of fiction

Phil’s head had never hurt quite this much before.

The ceaseless screaming of children outside his classroom window probably shouldn't bother him quite as much as it did, but just then, Phil could honestly say that he'd never heard a noise quite like it before. Three weeks into the new term, and he thought he'd be better prepared.

He wasn't, though.

Phil leaned his head into the palms of his hands and let out a gusty exhale. In front of him sat a pile of exercise books - the children’s English homework, ‘ _What I did on my weekend’_ , which would now be Phil’s evening activity - along with a mug of cold coffee that he’d never had time to drink, and his laptop sitting open on the class register. All but one of his class were in that day, and Lucy had been off sniffling all day yesterday so it was no surprise she was absent. Other that, most of Phil’s flock seemed to be doing well.

He re-assessed that situation when Miss Anderson, who took the class above him, suddenly appeared panting in the doorway. “Mr Lester, I'm sorry, but you'd better come now.”

Phil bit back his groan and instead jumped up to his feet, instantly on alert. “What’s happened?”

“There was a fight - just a bit of a scrap, few scraped knees - but everyone’s pointing the finger at Liam.”

“Liam?!”

“Yeah. Wanna know the main person doing the accusing?”

Phil’s stomach sank. “Not really.”

“That would be Samuel Howell.”

Phil bit back a curse. His face settling into a grim expression, Phil grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged it on, following Miss Anderson out of the room.

The inside of the primary school was still mostly quiet, all the students preferring to spend their break time running around outside. Phil preferred it that way too - it allowed the kids to let off some steam and come back to his classroom tired out and muted. For about five minutes, anyway.

 

The head teacher’s office was tucked away by reception, and outside its stern-looking door sat three very miserable young boys.

Phil crouched down by the youngest of them all, speaking in a low, disappointed voice. “Samuel. You promised me this wasn't going to happen again.”

The little boy kicked his feet, glaring stubbornly down at the ground. He had curly brown hair that (in Phil’s opinion) could do with a cut, and ragged little fingers that were currently screwed up into fists. There was a bruise beginning to rise on his cheek.

“It wasn't my fault!’” Samuel whined, pointing a finger straight at the other boys. “They started it!”

A chorus of “We _didn’t_!” Started up from the other two, accompanied by a lot of tears and angry sniffling.

Phil held up a hand. “Miss Anderson, will you take care of those two? Samuel and I will have a quiet word.”

Miss Anderson nodded, already crouching in front of the other two, so Phil led Samuel back out of the office and along the quiet corridors to his classroom. The school was eerily silent, other than the muffled screams sounding from the playground outside. Samuel kept sending longing looks back to the exit even as he was led towards his classroom.

Once they arrived, Phil sat him down in one of the front row seats and crouched in front of him. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Samuel kicked at the floor.

“This is the third incident this week, Samuel.” Phil kept his tone carefully low. “You promised me this was going to stop.”

“I can’t _help_ it,” Samuel sniffed. “Everyone was fighting, and Liam started it!”

“Did he actually?”

“He _did_ ,” Samuel insisted.

Phil nodded seriously. “Would you be willing to say that in front of the head teacher?”

Samuel swallowed.

“It’s a serious issue, after all, we’d have to get Liam’s family involved…”

“Well, it might not have been _just_ him,” Samuel mumbled.

“No?”

Samuel shook his head.

Phil sighed heavily. He leaned his head in his hands, face level with Samuel’s as he looked at him closely. “What are we going to do with you?”

“I haven’t done anything,” Samuel said defensively.

“I’m sure it’s not completely your fault,” Phil agreed, “But you know we said we’d have to get your parents involved if this carried on.”

Samuel instantly perked up. “My dad?”

“I’m not sure I have much choice, Samuel.” Phil shook his head. He glanced up at the clock, inwardly heaving a sigh when he saw that breaktime was nearly over and he still hadn’t had a chance to eat his lunch. “We’ll see how you go the rest of the day and review the situation after class, ok?”

“Ok,” Samuel replied immediately, and went to take his seat.

\---

The rest of Phil’s day did not go any better. The children were bouncy and excitable when they came back in, as was usual for a Friday afternoon, and they barely got halfway through the exercises Phil set them. The project was for art, and involved a lot of glitter, which in hindsight was maybe not the best idea.

Even worse, Samuel Howell was an absolute _nightmare._ He threw glitter in Emily Miller’s hair, dropped five successive glue sticks sticky-side-down on the threadbare carpet, and somehow managed to ruin half of his exercise book by scribbling his design across about twenty different pages.

Needless to say, Phil was quickly reaching the end of his tether.

“Samuel, sit in the corner,” Phil ordered tersely as he wiped at a crying Emily Miller’s hair. He dreaded the thought of having to explain this mess to her mother.

Samuel just stuck his tongue out and scurried away to the craft table.

Phil let out a breathy sigh. He comforted Emily as best he could, passed her onto one of her friends, and set about chasing Samuel away from the scissors.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Phil had actually kicked Samuel out of the classroom, forcing him to wait out in the corridor. He left him there until he’d seen all his other students safely into the arms of their parents, having to take a good fifteen minutes apologising profusely to Emily Miller’s mother for the hair-glitter incident. She’d been less than pleased, but Phil thought he’d managed to persuade her not to take her daughter out of the school.

Running one rather frazzled hand through his fringe, Phil pushed his glasses up his nose and then found his way back through the school until he found Samuel back in his classroom, basically climbing the walls.

Phil pinched his nose. “Samuel. I thought we _talked_ about this.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Samuel said immediately.

“Oh, really? So I’ve just spent fifteen minutes apologising to Emily Miller’s mother for nothing, have I?”

Samuel blinked. “Well, _I_ didn’t do anything. But maybe you did, Mr Lester.”

Phil bit his tongue, hard. He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

“But—”

“ _Sit,_ Samuel. I’m calling your parents.”

This news seemed to sober Samuel up a little, as he took his seat readily enough and bit his lower lip. Phil settled behind his desk, facing Samuel, rubbing his temple with one hand as he started up his computer with the other. The school’s technology was outdated, and he had to hit the keyboard three times before his login worked.

“Who have you got at home, Samuel?” Phil asked, mid-staring competition with his computer screen.

Samuel shifted. “Just my dad.”

“Your dad? Will he be at home now?”

“Should be.” Samuel shifted on his feet. “I stay in the after-school club normally, and he comes to get me after.”

“Well, I’m going to have to ask him to get you early tonight.” Phil finally managed to log into the system and looked up Samuel’s details. Once he found the phone number, he grabbed his classroom phone and punched in the code for outside numbers, then sat and waited for it to ring.

Samuel shifted in his seat, avoiding Phil’s eyes.

The call connected, and a low, slightly croaky voice answered, “Yeah?”

“Am I speaking to Mr Howell?”

“You are.”

“Ah, good – I’m Mr Lester, from the school—”

Phil was interrupted by a heavy, long-drawn-out sigh. “What’s Samuel done now?”

Phil held back a smile. “He’s been giving us a bit of difficulty, I’m afraid.”

“Of course he has.” The voice sounded wry. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, we’ve had to take him off his club tonight. Could you come in and collect him? We’ll talk about it more in person.”

“I suppose so,” the voice agreed amicably enough.

“Ok, just come down as soon as you can—”

“Wait,” Mr Howell said suddenly, “It _will_ be you I’ll be seeing, Mr Lester. Right?”

Phil blinked. “Um – yeah?”

“Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

And then the line went dead.

Phil stared at the phone in his hand for a good minute, confusion etched on his features. He’d been expecting an argument at least, possibly even a shouting match – parents, in his little experience with calling them, tended to get defensive of their children. But it wasn’t his business to complain – if Mr Howell wanted to help, then Phil wasn’t going to argue.

The next ten minutes were spent in awkward silence. Samuel shuffled in his seat, kicking his legs into the ground, and staring out of the window every ten seconds. Phil, on the other hand, did his best not to throw the terrible school computer at the wall. He just needed to email himself _one_ document, and the thing was refusing to move faster than the pace of a drunk snail.

Phil was, in fact, repeatedly hitting the top of the screen when a small cough at the doorway alerted him to a new presence. Phil jumped back comically fast, his glasses sliding down his nose as he turned to the doorway. A man was leaning there – a very attractive _young_ man – and while Phil wasn’t exactly against this development, he did rather want to know what was going on.

“Hi,” the man said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Phil blinked.

“So,” the man swept his gaze easily around the room, shaking his head when he saw Samuel still sitting in his chair, staring down at the ground. “I see you’ve kept my son here.”

“Y-your son?” Phil startled, staring at the man a little more closely. “He’s _your_ son?”

The man lifted one eyebrow, the smirk at his lips growing. “…Yes. You _are_ Mr Lester? You just called me.”

“Oh!” Phil’s brain finally caught up and he straightened, scurrying around the desk to usher the man further in. “Sorry – you just – you look, well, you _look_ – and I didn’t expect—sorry!”

“No, please continue,” the man offered smoothly, following Phil inside, “It’s flattering to have a man stuttering over me.”

Phil stopped. After attempting to process those words, because this guy was speaking in front of his _child_ , Phil decided the best course of action would just be to completely ignore that it happened. Instead, he pulled out the chair from behind his desk. He _could_ be professional. “Please, have a seat.”

“I don’t want to take yours,” the man shrugged, instead opting to lean against the desk.

_Phil’s_ desk.

Phil blinked, again, and wondered if this conversation was real or if he was beginning to feel his caffeine deficiency.

“…Right, ok.” Phil gave his head a small shake and stood awkwardly behind his chair, fiddling. “So – Mr Howell—”

“Call me Dan.”

_Dan._ Phil would never admit to being glad to have a name to put to the face – and _such_ a face. He pulled his thoughts away quickly, turning to face Samuel, who was sitting staring at them both with a wicked grin. “I’m sorry to have had to call you in—”

“ _Really,_ don’t be,” Dan muttered.

“—But Samuel’s been – um – he’s been giving me quite a bit of trouble.” Phil cursed his heavy tongue, trying not to stumble over his words.

Dan gave a low sigh. “Go on then. What’s he been up to?”

“Um – would you – maybe you’d be more comfortable if Samuel waited in the corridor for a while?”

Samuel’s eyes widened and he leaped up, staring at Dan indignantly. “Dad! No!”

Dan surveyed him for a moment, lips twitching. “Sorry, Sam. If you really _have_ been misbehaving…”

“But you said—!”

“If Mr Lester says you should wait outside, then you should wait outside,” Dan interrupted loudly.

“But _dad_ —”

“Now, Sam.”

Samuel continued to glare, but Dan just glared right back, until eventually Samuel relented and stomped his way over to the door. “You owe me,” he muttered under his breath, throwing one last nasty look Dan’s way before he slammed the door.

Phil grimaced. “Sorry?”

“Don’t be, he can be _much_ worse.” Dan leaned back casually against Phil’s desk, levelling him with a cool look, and Phil was frozen again for a minute. Dan was slightly taller than him, and he filled the space in Phil’s classroom far more easily then Phil ever could. The man practically _dripped_ charisma – Phil couldn’t help but wonder what he did for a living.

“You were saying?” Dan prompted after a minute, raising both brows.

Phil internally screamed when he realised he’d just been staring at Dan for far too long. He coughed, instantly standing up straight and determinedly avoiding Dan’s eyes. “Right – yes – Samuel. Sorry to have to tell you this, but he’s not been behaving very well.”

“He does that,” Dan agreed easily.

“Right – um,” Phil could feel himself getting flustered again. “Well, there’s been a few things that we really can’t ignore.”

“Oh?”

“He threw glitter in a fellow students’ hair.”

Dan’s eyes brightened. “ _Really_? Which student?”

Phil tilted his head. “Um. Emily Miller, but—”

“Oh, I never liked her mother anyway. Unbearably snooty.”

Phil let out a surprised laugh. He shouldn’t, but he sort of agreed – especially after getting shouted at by her earlier. “Yes, well, _you_ didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes apologising.”

Dan winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. So. Samuel’s behaviour is really unacceptable, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose it is, yes,” Dan agreed easily enough.

Phil was brought up short. He opened his mouth, closed it again, considered Dan, and then said, “So – so you’ll speak to him?”

“Sure,” Dan nodded. His gaze had never once left Phil’s face – as much as Phil wasn’t complaining, it was slightly disconcerting.

“And you’ll tell him to fix his behaviour?”

“Yep.”

Phil’s face must be showing his confusion. He hadn’t had to deal with parents too often before, but every time he did, he usually got an argument out of it. At the very least, the parent would be trying to defend their child’s behaviour, or shifting the blame onto Phil’s teaching ability, or something. Never, _ever,_ had someone just blindly agreed with him.

Until now, apparently.

“Um,” Phil tried again after a minute of awkward silence in which Dan stared straight at Phil (which was a little disconcerting – his eyes were the _exact_ same shade of brown as Samuel’s), “So – so we might have to put him on report—”

“Anything you think appropriate,” Dan agreed with a wave of his hand.

Phil blinked. He leaned forward, resting against the back of his desk chair as he fixed Dan with a considering look. “Alright – look – I’m sorry to be so blunt—”

“I’m sure I won’t mind.” Dan’s lips were twitching.

Phil tried his best not to stare – it was too easy to get distracted if he looked into Dan’s eyes. So, instead, he focused on the space just behind him and talked to his desk lamp, because Dan was _still leaning on his desk._ “Are you concerned about Samuel at all? Is he acting up at home? Because his behaviour in school is notably bad, and it’s been getting worse over the past week.”

“Only the past week,” Dan murmured, “I’ll have to have a word with him.”

Phil narrowed his eyes.

“To answer your question,” Dan was suddenly leaning forward, closing some of the distance between him and Phil. It wasn’t helping Phil’s ability to focus. “No, he’s been acting perfectly fine at home.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, he keeps insisting I watch cartoons with him, and he seems to have an innate hatred for vegetables, but other than that he’s fine.”

“I see,” Phil said delicately. “I mean, who likes carrots, really.”

“Precisely.” Dan grinned at him. “Or broccoli. Who thought it was a good idea to eat tiny trees?”

“I know, right? I used to think they were Ents.”

Dan gave him a flat look, and Phil bit his lip, inwardly cursing his runaway tongue. _Professional._ He was supposed to be being _professional_ , not making random nerd references to hot dads.

…That sounded worse in his head than he’d meant it to.

“That doesn’t work on so many levels,” Dan shook his head.

“I know, sorry—”

“I mean, Ents are _giant._ You can’t expect them to fold up all small and cute onto a plate.”

Phil blinked. “Well, I thought they were _miniature_ Ents…”

“But where are the faces?”

“I was six, alright?” Phil argued, hotly. He could feel the tips of his ears going red as Dan laughed. “Anyway. Back to the matter in hand. Samuel.”

“Alright.” Dan sounded amused.

Phil turned away from him, finally, feeling it like a drag in his stomach. He edged around Dan to get to the other side of his desk – because _really,_ Dan could have picked a more convenient place to lean – and fished under the giant pile of exercise books for a report card. “We’ll have to get him to fill this out at the end of every day. I’ll leave a comment, and then you’ll need to read and sign it every evening – if that’s ok?”

“Sure.” Dan was watching Phil’s every movement.

Phil coughed. “It’s just a way to track his progress – nothing really bad. If this behaviour continues then we might have to take it a step further.”

“I’m sure he’ll start behaving again.” Dan straightened – finally – and reached out to take the report card from Phil. His hand was _huge_ as it covered Phil’s, actually making Phil feel small and delicate, which at six-foot-two was no small feat.

In his distraction, Phil didn’t notice Dan leaning over the pile of exercise books with interest in his face. “Oh – is this the homework? I liked helping Sam out with that.”

Phil blinked. “You helped him?”

“Yeah. ‘ _What we did on our weekend’_ – I took him out to the park catching Pokemon so he had something to write about.” Dan smirked. “Well, something a little more interesting than _I stayed in and lost to my dad at Mario Kart for the millionth time._ ”

Despite himself, Phil was grinning. “Well, that’s one I’ll look forward to reading. Which team is Samuel on?”

“Mystic.” Dan’s nose wrinkled. “I told him off for being too boring, but what can you do?”

“Hey, I’m on Mystic,” Phil said absentmindedly as he straightened up the pile of books. He winced, realising what he’d said, because really what grown man with no children other than his students played Pokemon Go? Dan was going to think he was a total loser.

Indeed, Dan was eyeing him rather closely, but his eyes looked – soft? “Well, I do apologise. I’m an Instinct man myself.”

“Oh.” Phil looked up, offered him a small smile. “For some reason, I thought you’d be Valour.”

“ _Excuse you_ ,” Dan huffed, “I think I’m offended.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just—” Phil waved a hand over Dan’s body, “With all of _that_ – I don’t know.”

Dan snorted. He looked delighted as he watched Phil straightening up things on his desk. “I’m intrigued to ask what you mean, but I think maybe I’d be safer not knowing.”

“Probably.”

“Alright then.” Dan leaned a little closer, invading Phil’s space. Phil couldn’t bring himself to step back – not when Dan was so big and warm and comforting. And ok, Phil needed to hold off on the stalkerish thoughts.

“So, what’s your starter?” The excitement in Dan’s voice was bubbling and infectious.

Phil brightened instantly. “Bulbosaur, of course.”

Dan’s nose wrinkled.

“Don’t look like that,” Phil told him off, “He’s basically a walking plant, it’s the best.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, what’s _yours_?”

Dan allowed a superior smile to spread across his face. “I got a Pikachu.”

Phil dropped his ruler. “You _didn’t_.”

“I did.” Dan was grinning brighter, and he reached into his pocket and dug out his phone – the brand-new iphone, of all things, who _was_ this guy and why was he talking to Phil?

The Pokemon Go app loaded much faster on Dan’s phone than it did on Phil’s, and sure enough, there sat a Pikachu in pride of place.

Phil grabbed for the phone, completely forgetting about being professional. “Oh, you _did_.”

“Yep.” Dan’s tone dripped with pride. “And I _own_ the gym over on Stanley Avenue, so don’t even _think_ about it.”

Phil grimaced. “I was going to go there this weekend.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to try, but I think you’ll have a bit of difficulty.”

Phil huffed. “Arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Not without good reason.” Dan was still standing far too close, his brown eyes glittering at Phil.

Phil coughed. Uncomfortably, he held the phone back out towards Dan. “Sorry. I shouldn’t just steal your phone.”

“I don’t mind,” Dan disagreed lightly, “Especially not if you put your number in there.”

Phil froze. Slowly, he looked up at Dan, only to be met with Dan looking awkwardly the other way, a spot of colour sitting at the bottom of his right cheek. He was staring down at the ground, all flustered and adorable, and it was doing strange things to Phil’s insides.

While waiting for his brain to kick into gear, Phil determinedly took the phone back from Dan’s grasp. He opened up his contacts, still trying to get over the fact that _yes,_ the hot dad just asked for his number – somehow – even though his son was literally standing right outside the door and they’d just bonded over playing Pokemon.

“I’m only saving this if I can have some cool nickname,” Phil broke the silence after a minute, looking up to see Dan staring right back at him.

“Please,” Dan snorted. “Nothing about you is _cool_.”

“Says the guy who named his Pikachu _peek-at-you_.”

“Shut up.” Dan mumbled, gesturing for the phone. “Besides, you’ll have to give yourself your actual name, seeing as I only know you as _Mr Lester_.”

Phil blinked. He allowed himself to smirk, slowly. “I don’t know. I kind of like that.”

“Ahh, shut _up_.” Dan snatched his phone back from Phil, narrowing his eyes. “And tell me your _actual_ name.”

Phil grinned. “Striker.”

“I take everything back, I hate you.”

“No, don’t,” Phil reached out impulsively and trapped Dan’s hand over his phone.

Dan looked back at him, his hand warm beneath Phil’s, and right in that moment he was everything Phil wanted.

“It’s Phil,” he said after a moment. “My name – I’m Phil.”

Dan’s face broke into the warmest smile Phil had ever seen. “Hi, Phil. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

\---

Dan walked away from the school with Phil’s number saved in his phone and Samuel hanging off his arm, a giant grin on his face.

“Did I do good, dad?” Sam asked as they walked out towards Dan’s car.

“Sam, you did _amazing_.” Dan was positively beaming as he unlocked the car and slid in.

Sam cheered. He clambered in beside Dan, talking excitedly the whole time. “I caused _so_ much trouble – I ruined all the glue sticks, you know, _and_ I got Mikey to break four pencils, and I think Liam got into a fight because I told him to, as well—”

“You didn’t get Liam in trouble, did you?” Dan asked sternly.

“Um—”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dan sighed, exasperated, as he leaned over to secure his son’s seatbelt, “I told you not to involve anyone else.”

“He offered!” Sam defended himself. “And him and Mikey were only play-fighting, anyway, so—”

“Is that where you got the bruise on your cheek from?”

“…Maybe.”

Dan let out another heavy sigh. He switched on the ignition and carefully reversed out of the school car park, edging his way back onto the main road. “You’ll have to apologise to him tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Sam mumbled begrudgingly.

“And what’s this I hear about Emily Miller’s hair?”

“You said you didn’t like her mum!”

“That doesn’t mean you can go around causing trouble.”

“Dad.” Sam turned to stare at him. “You _literally_ told me to.”

“Samuel—”

“You said if I misbehaved enough for you to have to come and talk to Mr Lester, then you’d take me for pancakes!”

“Yes, yes,” Dan could feel the spot of red reappearing on his right cheek, “And you did well, but I _told_ you not to get anyone else into trouble.”

“Liam _offered_ ,” Sam protested, “And Emily had it coming, she said my Weedle was pathetic.”

Dan’s eyes darkened. “Oh, _did_ she now?”

“Yes! I couldn’t let that slide!”

Dan pursed his lips. “…You still need to apologise.”

“Are we still going for pancakes?”

Dan surveyed his son coolly before putting his eyes back on the road. “Depends. Will you apologise?”

Sam grumbled loudly. “ _Fine._ But she _deserved_ it.”

“Alright, then we can go for pancakes.”

Samuel cheered loudly. He peered out of the window, his grin widening as they sped on towards their favourite restaurant, and Dan couldn’t help but smile as he watched him. Sam being happy made him happy – and, well, he had a new person to text that night.

“So, dad,” Sam piped up after a few minutes.

“Mhmm?” Dan pulled easily into a free parking space and turned off the engine.

“Is Mr Lester going to be my other dad now?”

“ _Samuel_ , if you ever breathe a _word_ of this to your teacher, I will personally see to it that you don’t leave your room for a year.”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I completely guessed their Pokemon Go teams. Let’s see if I’m anywhere close to right when they upload their new video xD


End file.
